


Cycles

by Arrii77



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Uzumaki Naruto, Angst, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Civilians being assholes, Civilians in Konoha are nasty, Fuuinjutsu Master Uzumaki Naruto, M/M, Naruto is an honorary Uchiha, Not as an essential part of the plot, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Uzumaki Naruto Needs a Hug, and fuck the sandaime, fuck konoha, i think, implied suicidal ideation, so that's a bit of a warning, spoilers in the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-07-29 15:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrii77/pseuds/Arrii77
Summary: The world works in cycles – history repeats itself while also never following the same pattern. For the cycles of the world occur before history repeats itself, and the only thing not following this cycle is a growing hatred that has stretched its roots into the most basic make-up of the world.In another cycle; another history, Naruto and Sasuke died on a mission to the Land of Waves. In this cycle, the hatred has stretched its roots further.OR:When Naruto and Sasuke have died in another cycle of history, and their story is written anew once again. Though this time, the world is a darker, more hateful place. The hatred is a stronger presence in both of them, and their blackened hearts lead them through their symphony.Here's the link to the discord:https://discord.gg/5ftehBZ





	1. Prologue: A Goal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first work in the Naruto fandom, and I hope to do my best. 
> 
> On another note, I know I should finish my other work before doing this, but I couldn't resist writing this. So, sorry for that, I guess?
> 
> This is a shorter chapter than the rest in the story will be, so don't be concerned with the lack of content.

* * *

History repeats itself, some say. History only repeats itself in the mind of a fool, others say. What neither know, is that the world works in cycles, for it is truly ancient. History repeats itself but also does not, since patterns from before the existence of history repeat themselves and run the cycles of the world. History and time – what strange things they are. How people reduce something so vastly beyond their capacity to something so very linear. History and time twist and turn in an intricate duet, they do not just move forwards. Occasionally a crescendo will cause them to speed up and whiz around each other in odd orbits. The cycles will spin together and form a swelling polyphony. History does not repeat itself while also following a constant cycle.

Naruto’s life always seemed to pass him in a dull blur. The days bled together until they were no more than a monochrome blob in the past. He stumbled through crowded streets like a broken marionette hanging off but one string, pathetically trying to reach out to someone, but never being able to lift his arm – he only had one string. So, he hung from the string attached to his spine and let it drag him wherever it pleased. He glanced up with jaded eyes as the muffling sheet of loneliness dropped in front of his eyes. And with his greying vision he staggered from day to day, heart heavy in his chest.

Occasional flares of pain would make themselves known on his abdomen. Their scorching heat tumbled through his veins and lit his body. Naruto was on fire from within. And yet, his heart was ever so cold, so empty. That same damned heart just kept beating every day, on and on. His chest kept moving up and down. Sometimes, he wondered what it would feel like if they stopped. Some days, his cold heart seemed to freeze over and clog his throat with something so foreign, and yet so familiar. On those days, Naruto had difficulty bothering opening his eyes. On those days, he just could not get out of bed and do anything. Instead, he just lied there, closed his eyes, and wished his heart would just stop for once.

Just to let him feel what the cold grips of death would feel like. Just to let him know whether he would find himself in a void for the rest of eternity, floating serenely. Maybe he would go to a sort of heaven, where he would have a family – a mother, a father and a younger sister, all of whom would love him.

His father would greet him with a kind smile as his mother would emerge from the house, brimming with confidence and, ironically, life. His younger sister would waddle towards him, holding that stuffed bear of hers she always held. She would hold up her small, pudgy arms and let him lift her into his arms. And then, he’d prance around the house with her in his arms as she giggled and gurgled. She would drop the bear at one point, at which she would start whining to be put down. She would squirm out of his arms and land on the floor quite unceremoniously, as he would not have moved fast enough for her to reach the ground fully. She would then let out another gurgle, which would morph into a screaming sob. He would try to shush her and, in his attempt, give her the bear. She would sniffle before clutching the stuffed toy and screaming louder. 

His mother would then burst through the door, fuming at him. She would ask what he had done to his sister. He would try to deny any claims against himself. His sister would then scream even louder and hold her arms out for their mother. She would pick her up and take her to another room in the house. Naruto would cross his arms with a fond huff and plop on the couch when his father would enter the room. His father would have been a rather soft-hearted man when it came to his family, and would rather not cross his wife. Instead, he’d sit in the company of his son and listen to him rant and fume as he tried to speak sense to him. Naruto would then sigh and head to the other room, where his mother and sister would sit. He would apologize half-heartedly as his sister would leap into his arms again, ready for another mad dash through the house.

How he wished he’d have a loving family. And even if it were not the picturesque replica of an ideal family, he would still rather stay in the Shinigami’s clutches. Frankly, he would do and give anything for something other poisonous glares. Naruto was a rather selfish boy; he would admit that. Whatever the price, he'd give it for the sight of a single smile directed at him. 

But that one pessimistic side of him seemed to argue. Instead, he would fall and fall until he knew nothing but falling and the feel of his heart in his throat. And then the air around him would heat and heat until it burned his delicate skin. And when it seemed the air could not get any hotter, it would. And then small licks of flames would reach him, where they would leave blistering trails across his skin. And when his body should have long vaporised, those same licks of flame would continue lapping and his skin would scorch once again. He would do this for all of eternity. And yet, in all the time that was eternity, his heart would never thaw. It would remain a block of solid ice in his throat that would have been raw with all his screaming. And still, the bitter chill of loneliness would never leave him.

The villagers seemed to believe he deserved a fate akin to this one. They wanted him to burn in the fiery pits of hell, forever. He knew not what he had done to them, just that he had done something to deserve their resentment. But instead of boiling over and unleashing all his pent-up hatred, he remained, with a grim acceptance. They could hate him all they wanted. He would still walk the streets of Konoha, if not for any reason other than spite. Just the dwindling hope he would see this flicker of acknowledgement. That flicker, which he would give and give anything for. 

As he dragged his feet over the ground one day, he came to a decision. He would no longer hang his head in the face of the villager’s glares. Instead, he would power through with a smile on his face. He would prance through the streets, happy, but still alone. And if his heart remained frozen in his chest, who would care? Pitying himself and feeling that pang of sadness whenever he saw a family would not help him. It would not grant him that smile he so desperately craved. If he were to never gain one, who cared? Who cared if his joy was nothing more than an illusion? A mask? Nothing more than a never-ending genjutsu?

And so, with a new goal in mind, he let his love for the village prevail. He would love the whole village – every person, cobble and tree in it, with his whole heart. And with that love he would reach for the stars – the Hokage. He would be one of them, and they would have to respect and acknowledge him. They would have to. His happiness would not have to be a mere genjutsu; a pitiful illusion he tried to convince himself with. He straightened his neck and back and pasted a bright grin on his face. Some people looked at him rather strangely, but he paid them no mind.

“Yosh! I’ll be the Hokage!”

With that, he dashed off to the Hokage monument.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the prologue! I hope you enjoyed reading this and have the patience to deal with my absolutely horrible updating. Thank you for giving this a chance. The rest of the chapters will be at least twice the length of this one, so don't worry about the length factor. I'm also posting this on ff.net in case any of you want to read there instead.
> 
> Until the next chapter!


	2. Sewing and a Kunai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naruto, now six years old, discovers, for the hundredth time, that he truly hates sewing. For the first time, he finds a kunai to be a good solution for the consequences of sewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Here is chapter two, or rather the first proper chapter. Whatever you want to call it. Thank you for reading, subscribing, bookmarking, and leaving kudos!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Warning: A very short moment (a few sentences) of implied suicidal/self-harming thoughts.**

* * *

A young boy glanced into his wallet. It contained a lot of the money he owned. The rest was stashed around his small apartment, under floorboards, between cupboards and other peculiar places. He was too young to have a bank account yet. That he could only have once he was an adult, which was once he graduated the academy and had become a ninja.

Naruto had not even joined the academy yet. Following the third shinobi war, children only joined the academy once they reached the age of eight. This was an exception only for prodigies like Uchiha Itachi, of which there only were few in each generation. He, however, was also active within the war, and not letting him become a ninja officially would be a waste of his talents. At just eleven, Itachi was already being considered as a possible addition to the ANBU. Rather, that was what the rumours claimed. Nobody was really quite sure whether he had actually joined the elite force or not. If he had not, it was only a matter of time.

They no longer let children graduate early, as to avoid scenarios like that of Orochimaru. Cases in which the child had been forced to mature too quickly and had suffered psychologically in the long term. These cases were fine and good in wars, but at the current time of peace, they were to be avoided as much as possible. Konoha did not want any more madmen running around, who had been honed into perfect killing machines from when they could set one foot in front of the other. If this potential was left untapped, or dormant for some years, the madmen running around would at least have less ammunition to cause mass destruction with. 

Fortunately for him, Naruto would not have to go through the painstaking process of paying bills and the like. Instead, he got a monthly letter mailed to him, with lines of confusing numbers written on it. He paid these letters no mind. After all, somewhere the letter would always mention that the confusing numbers had been paid for. Not that Naruto understood. Apparently, the Hokage paid for his living expenses. Naruto received money for food and clothes monthly too.

There was one thing the Hokage did not realize – people enjoyed charging him much higher prices for goods that were of much lower quality. Not that Naruto’s six-year-old self knew this. The pang of hunger was a familiar companion. Naruto’s stomach had long given up on growling in complaint. He would not feed it every time it wanted to be fed. Three full meals a day were unheard of for him, and he most often ate nothing more than two cups of ramen and maybe some spoilt milk in a day. The villagers could not give him soiled cup ramen. That was pretty much impossible.

Naruto sifted through the clothes racks. He often bought rather plain shirts – they were the cheapest. On those he would then sew a spiral crest. He never was quite sure what it meant, just that it was on every ninja’s uniform and that the Hokage had told him to sew it on. He had given him a rather large stash of the crests. He would look like more of a ninja then, was what the old man had said. People would respect him! They would acknowledge him!

Naruto never liked sewing much. The needles were all confusing sizes, some obscenely large and others impossibly thin. Threading the tiny string through the even tinier hole would always be a pain, and he often found himself hurling the objects involved on the floor with unnecessary force. He would then throw a rather childish tantrum, which would be interrupted by an annoyed neighbour at some point. And once he would have forgotten about the trouble of sewing, he would find a needle lodged in the sole of his foot, blood leaving smudged marks on his floors. With a shout of annoyance and another bang on the wall from his neighbours, he would pull the needle out and hold some tissue to the wound, which would have closed by the time the thread was in the needle. He would then prick his fingers while sewing the crest on. That time he would not yell in his frustration, and instead would continue. The tiny pricks would heal within a minute anyways.

Konoha, for all its supposed greatness, was a rather small-minded village, one might even go as far as calling it _primitive_. Though its ninja were said to possess incredible skill and thus took on more missions, most potential was left untapped. The perfect example of this was the academy. There, the students were to learn everything they needed to know to become proper genin. Really, just like the village, the academy was small-minded. Those that could not complete oddly specific tasks were neglected and dubbed as failures. As disgraces. Really, the academy never taught its students exactly what they were supposed to learn and know. And then, children would be written off as adults from the moment they left its gates, brimming with arrogance, only to be slaughtered in their first higher-ranking mission.

Konoha’s small-mindedness extended not only to its lack of proper teaching, but also to the whole of its population. One may be asked this question: Can they separate the kunai from the scroll it has been sealed into? Yes, many answered. They could separate the two. Just because the scroll contained a kunai it would not suddenly become a kunai itself. And yet, when the exact same question was asked in regard to one of their own, suddenly the scroll became the kunai. Somehow, the vessel for something dangerous would become the dangerous thing itself. And so, they treaded with measured caution, for stories of a scroll that had become a kunai circulated through streets.

What Konoha really did, was fear greatness. They feared potential and strength that could not be controlled, since that greatness could always turn against them. And so, they neglected the potential in the hopes that it would never turn against them with enough power to raze them to the ground. They did this without knowing what neglect and hatred really did to the potential. For even without the strength to back it up, the potential could always harbor a small ball of resentment in its heart, which would fester and grow in its potency, until it surrounded the potential’s heart. The potential would then act on this hatred and turn into strength, which would destroy Konoha just as it feared it would if the potential had not been left untapped.

And so, the cycle of hatred would continue, a curse embedded deep in the foundations of the village. The hatred would bleed and spread into every plant, every animal, every drop of rain and every cobble that made up Konoha. It would feed the very souls of the village and seep into every crack in every wall. It would taint the very waters of every river snaking its way through the village and hang over the woods in the heavy morning fog.

As the world aged and history repeated itself over and over again, the cycle of hatred would extend its roots to the very foundations of the world as the only thing that would not go with the flow of the whirlpool. Instead, its roots would keep growing and growing and keep strengthening their hold on the world.

As he skipped through the streets, he seemed oblivious to the glares and anxious looks sent at his back. His chest ached when he heard a sneer of _“monster” _and a _“don’t say it too loud, I heard his type is insane”_ shortly follow. Mutters of _“shut up” _and _“you aren’t supposed to talk about that”_ stopped the whispers for a moment before they started again. It was a practiced routine. One whose existence seemed essential for Konoha to function. So, the people of the village could go on with their day without the hatred festering in their hearts. They would need a release for it somewhere.

A group of shinobi sitting in a circle while munching on dango paused their conversation and eyed him warily, as if he would lash out in a perfect remake of their memories. Their eyes narrowed as they read his every movement in an attempt to find the cue of an attack. His gaze darted to them and he gave them a toothy grin. Maybe then they would like him a little more. Their eyes widened, and they gave each other weary looks before narrowing their eyes at him further. His smile dropped for a moment and his eyes dimmed. The hurried pace he had been walking with faltered. A breath halted in its inhale before being exhaled shakily. A finger on his right hand twitched.

His features were steeled. The naïve gleam was back in his eyes and the ignorant grin on his face again. He did not notice how the eyebrow of an impressively young chuunin twitched and his eyes softened slightly.

Naruto threw the clothes on his bed haphazardly, his now significantly lighter purse next to them. He dug through an overfilled drawer in a search for the spiral crests and his sewing kit. As he threw his tantrum after not getting the thread through the usual hole, he left the apartment angrily. The needle, however, was not left on the floor this time.

Soon enough, a lone figure sat perched on the Yondaime’s head. Naruto pouted with all the stubbornness of a six-year old. He huffed a tired breath. As he shifted his foot, a prick interrupted his moping. It was followed by a searing ache. Naruto pulled his shoe off to see what the problem was. He shouted, frustrated. The needle had gotten stuck in his foot before it was supposed to. The routine was usually different. This time, however, it had been pushed rather far into his foot. Skin had begun healing over it, trapping it within him.

Naruto knew he would have to take it out. This time it would hurt more than usual. Even with all his stubbornness, he knew he would need the help of an adult. With another huff, he limped towards the hospital.

Konoha Hospital. A simple sign in a sterile white. Naruto had never been there himself. He never had the need to go. Every injury he had ever sustained had been gone within a few days. He pottered up to the person behind the desk in the front. They eyed him coldly as he tried to stretch high enough to see them.

“Ano”, he twiddled his thumbs and lifted his injured foot higher, “I have a problem with my foot. A needle is stuck in it and I need help ta take it out. I’d do it myself, but ‘t’s in too deep an’ the skin has grown over.”

The person glared down at him. “For something as insignificant as that you need an appointment. I’m sure you understand that we have people in much more urgent conditions to tend to. _Ninja_ for example. Ones that have just returned from dangerous missions. We don’t have time for you. Go away and deal with it yourself.”

Naruto was about to shout indignantly, but stopped himself. He lowered his head. This was a familiar conversation. He would never get his way anyways. With a limp, he left the hospital.

Soon, he found himself wandering around the village aimlessly. He had arrived in a large, open field. Small knives he vaguely recalled being called something along the lines of “kunai” or “bunai” pierced many wooden targets. Some had hit the center, while others were slightly off the mark. Star-like pieces of metal were stuck in trees, often in groups of two or three. Naruto brightened with an idea. He would cut the skin on his foot with one of those knives to get the needle out. That would surely work.

It took a mighty pull from his tiny body to wrench the kunai from the target, after which he tumbled to his behind rather clumsily. He pulled off his sandal and angled the kunai towards his foot with a shaking hand. He could now barely make out a grey dot where the needle had been pushed into his foot. He held his breath and tensed every muscle in his leg, if he could even do that. Well, it felt like he had. With a jolt, he plunged it into his foot. The pain was a lot more intense than he had expected. Nausea clawed at his insides as he started moving the kunai around, trying to get to the needle and dislodge it somehow. His breath came in ragged pants and tears had begun blurring his vision. He blinked in attempt to clear his vision. It did not work. More tears kept replacing the ones he had just cried.

An agonizing pinch further in his foot left him know that he had, in fact, found the needle. He pulled the kunai out. The cut was a lot deeper than it needed to be, and ran to the left of the needle in a rather jagged line. He took a deep breath and once again tensed his muscles. This time, he let his fingers plunge into his foot rather than the kunai. He let out a small whimper. If the kunai had hurt earlier, this was agony. His fingers stretched the wound and scratched at his flesh in the search of the needle. He rejoiced when his short nails had found it. But when he had tried to pull it out, his fingers slipped, and he instead cried out sharply at the spike of pain. He tried once again, and this time found a stronger grip on the needle. With all the strength he had, he ripped out the needle at once. Better a flash of dizzying pain than a long, drawn out ache.

Naruto cried even more as he saw the bloodied piece of metal drop on the grass. His foot had two ugly cuts in it, one resembling less a cut than the other. The two connected where that of the needle ended. The problem now, was that his foot would not stop bleeding. The blood dripping onto the grass was making his head spin and his vision fade in and out as pain rolled over him in waves. Nausea clawed at his throat. Seeing the very thing that kept him alive oozing out of him was an oddly captivating sight. He made no move to stem the flow with his hand, and instead just stared. As pain flooded his senses and his awareness seeped away, he wondered whether those concerne onyx eyes before him thought the blood as fascinating as he did. too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ended on a rather twisted note. Once again, no Sasuke, but I promise, he's showing up in the next chapter.
> 
> Until the next chapter, dearest readers of mine!


	3. Uchihas and Hospitals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, stabbing himself with a kunai has some rather unsavoury consequences, one of those being the possibility of being kidnapped by the owner of some rather dark eyes. Once again, Naruto is at a loss of what to do after taking a headfirst plunge into unfamiliar situations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I am not as satisfied with this chapter as I was the others. It seems as if the third chapter is where I have writer's block, regardless of which story it is. Well, it has been written, and I hope you can enjoy this chapter.
> 
> As a short warning, I will describe some pain in mildly graphic detail, but that is nothing you were not previously warned of.

* * *

Uchiha Itachi, now a chuunin and possibly a member of Anbu, carried the body of a small blond. The boy was troublingly light and had bones jutting out in places that should have been covered by baby fat. Itachi hopped from roof to roof as he wrapped bandage around a rather deep wound in the boy's foot. He frowned. The boy had inflicted this wound on himself with a lot less hesitation than a boy his age should have had. He had also done it with a kunai he had found in a training ground. That alone was concerning, regardless of the fact that, as a civilian, Naruto was not allowed on the training grounds. Itachi wondered whether Naruto's lack of hesitation had been because of his… tenant. The fox might have some sort of effect on Naruto other than the whiskers. The psychological makeup of a jinchuuriki could possibly be different, regardless of how they were treated by their village's population.

The boy in his arms shifted as his eyes fluttered while Itachi tied the last knot on the bandage, and stopped at the gate of the Uchiha compound. Naruto blinked owlishly before slumping again. Itachi was not quite sure whether this was because he had lost consciousness once more or had just let himself fall limp. With a tug and a push of a door, Itachi entered the house.

"Tadaima"

A shout of "welcome home, Itachi" announced the presence of his mother.

The pitter-patter of small footsteps neared Itachi, accompanied by something that sounded suspiciously like a "please train me Nii-san!". At the sight of a body in Itachi's arms, Sasuke stopped. Itachi never brought teammates with him after a mission. If a teammate of his was hurt during the mission, they would be left there, or brought to the hospital at most, let alone the Uchiha compound. Besides, there was no way the boy was a ninja at the level of his brother. Itachi was a prodigy, and if there was a ninja younger than him who was at his level, it would be big news.

For some reason, the boy looked familiar. Sasuke could not place a name to him, other than whispers of "monster" and "fox demon" he had heard around the village. They spoke of a short boy with rather spiky blond hair, tanned skin, and three whisker-like birthmarks on each cheek. Yes, that was the exact description of the boy in front of him. While the birthmarks did make him look like a fox, Sasuke could not see any semblance to a monster or a demon. Monsters are big, scary, and probably green. This unconscious boy in Itachi's arms seemed in no way to be a monster. He was just rather skinny.

The boy blinked blearily. He glanced around for a few beats before flailing suddenly. Itachi's eyes widened for a moment before he tightened his grip. The boy had started shouting and trying to kick his way out of Itachi's grip. Sasuke tried to come up with something to calm the boy, but nothing came to mind. Whimpers and sniffles had started escaping him in between his panicked yells. Sasuke's parents were coming towards them, if he was going off the sound of their footsteps.

"What is this noise?" His mother turned around the corner and stopped at the sight in front of her.

His father followed soon after. He, too, stopped.

"What do you _think_ you are _doing_!"

Uchiha Fugaku was a stern man. He expected the best of both his sons. He put the most pressure on the older one of the two, and often forgot that Itachi was merely an eleven-year-old child, despite being in a higher position than him. Itachi had not even started puberty and was already a candidate for ANBU. Fugaku was a prideful man. He was the clan head of one of Konoha's strongest clans. And as clan head, he was the proudest of them all. His pale skin was marred with scars from many battles won. Not only that, but he was also one of the few Uchihas to have developed a Mangekyo Sharingan. Rumors surrounding his Mangekyo were of a commonplace, and many claimed that he had killed his best friend to obtain it. Despite the foulness of this rumor, some clansmen were happy to have a man like that as their leader, for they claimed it showed how his thirst for power would help him lead the clan to new heights.

And when that same prideful man saw his older son holding that damned Kyuubi brat as it tried to squirm from his grip, his rage got the better of him.

All three boys froze. Naruto heaved a few breaths before wriggling out of the frozen Itachi's arms and landing on the ground with a dignified "oof". His injured foot took the brunt of the hit, and he swallowed a pained whine. He tried to catch his breath once more and stood on shaky legs. He had not the slightest clue where he was. Icy panic shot through him. His legs spread a bit further and his back hunched slightly as his hands were brought from his sides to guard his stomach.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

Fugaku regarded Naruto coldly. The boy's show of fear and his cowering were pathetic. "Why don't you answer that, Itachi?"

"I found him on one of the training grounds with a rather serious injury in his foot. So, I decided to bring him here for him to possibly get some aid. He had passed out, probably from pain and shock."

The Uchihas frowned. Civilians were not allowed on the training grounds, and Naruto knew this.

Naruto shuffled his feet. "Ano, I had a needle stuck in my foot, an' the skin had grown over. I went ta th' hospital to get help but they told me that I wasn't important enough, so I went for a walk. An' then I found a big field, where there were a bunch of sharp things. I thin' they were called kunai or something. An' so I took the needle out myself, since nobody wanted to help me. Now I'm here."

Mikoto was shocked at how casual the boy had made the statement sound. "How was the needle there long enough for the skin to grow over? How did it get stuck there in the first place, and how did you get the needle out?"

"I was sewing these things on my shirts, "he pointed to a crest on his chest and wrung his hands together ," since Ji-chan told me to do it. That was in th' mornin'. My skin had grown over within a couple hours or so. So, I just took a kunai, or whatever they're called, an' cut open my foot ta get at th' needle. I then pulled it out with my hand."

At this, everyone but Itachi and Naruto himself was shocked. Sasuke's face curled into an expression of vague disgust and disbelief, while Mikoto's hands went up to cover her mouth. Fugaku managed to conceal his expressions other than a slight widening of his eyes and a rough swallow.

Sasuke spoke for the first time since Naruto's arrival, "are you telling the truth? That doesn't sound very convincing."

Naruto was confused. He had no reason to lie, so why would he have lied? "Why would I be lyin'? If I wanna be Hokage, then I have ta tell th' truth! Now can you answer my questions? Who are you, what do you want from me, and where am I?"

Mikoto did not know why the hospital had barred Naruto entry. Okay, that was not true. She did know. He housed the demon fox. She herself was slightly wary of the child after hearing the many horrors he had done that the villagers spoke of. But now, seeing him stand in her own home, with an injury he had given himself, looking confused in the way only a child could be, she began questioning her previous opinion of him. Yes, she had seen him dash around the village while shouting about something, but she never saw him do something inherently bad. Seeing him resemble her youngest so very much, sympathy for him flashed through her.

"Well, his foot has been bandaged.", Fugaku spoke up and crossed his arms, "Itachi, bring him home. He has been treated. I see no reason as to why you brought him here in the first place."

"Well, I have just stopped the bleeding. The wound needs disinfecting. Who knows what was on that kunai before? Besides, I have not bandaged it well. I did it rather hurriedly and had no time to do it properly while coming here."

Fugaku's left brow twitched, but Mikoto placed a hand on his arm. "I can treat his wound."

The clan head turned with a scowl and stalked back into his office, leaving three children and his wife in the hallway.

"Can you tell me who ya are now? An' where I am?"

Mikoto chuckled to herself. "I'm Uchiha Mikoto, these are my sons Itachi and Sasuke." She pointed to each of the boys as she named them. "That man that just walked away is my husband, Fugaku. You're in our house."

Naruto nodded and turned to Itachi. "Thanks for helping with my foot. I don' think anyone else woulda helped."

Itachi smiled kindly. "Anytime." He turned and walked to somewhere else in the house. "I'll finish making lunch while you bandage his wound, Kaa-san."

Sasuke lingered for a moment and wrung his hands. He was not quite sure what he was supposed to do. So, he squeaked out something between a "bye" and an "I'll go" and rushed to his room.

The woman smiled at Naruto in an attempt of being reassuring, but the slight wariness in her gaze gave her away. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him through the hall to another room, away from where the rest of her family had gone.

"Maa, maa, Mikoto-san, y've got a very nice house, big too!"

She smiled in response. The house was made in a mix of a traditional and modern style. Rooms were large and connected in open hallways, in which windows spanned from the floor to the ceiling. Where there were no windows, the walls remained a pale grey, with wooden beams crisscrossing throughout. The floor, too, was made of wood, and the direction of the wood changed every few meters. The Uchiha crest hung on the walls, spaced evenly, just to make sure that everyone knew who the house belonged to. He was led into a rather small room, in which a counter stood in the middle.

He hopped on the cushions on the counter, and bounced in his place for a few beats while Mikoto dug around the different cupboards. She came up to him with another roll of gauze and a bottle of some sort of solution. A twisted panic shot through his veins, leaving icy trails in its wake. His eyes widened, and his pupils seemed to slit for a moment, lulled by the faint comfort of an odd warmth in his abdomen. His hands curled around the edge of the counter and nails that had previously been cut short dug into the wood. She held her hands up in a sort of placating move. Breaths shuddered from Naruto's inert lungs. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, and another. With a heavy exhale, he opened them again and pasted a smile on his face. For some reason, it felt wobblier than it usually was.

When Mikoto had seen the wound, she had let out a gasp. It was deeper than she had expected – and a lot more brutal. She had expected one straight cut, where he had cut his skin layer by layer to get to the needle, which he would have removed carefully. A rather foolish assumption, she realised. The child was no doctor. She often forgot that Naruto was the same age as her youngest son, who was already remarkably mature for his age. That was the moment she had realised that Naruto had seen the cold, cold cruelty of this damned world much too soon.

Steam rose from the wound, a lot like the smoke created by inadequate chakra control and jutsus put together. It seemed to knit itself together before her very eyes. At that moment, she cursed the fox in the boy. Had the wound kept some dirt in it, the infection would have been trapped inside, and she could not let that happen. She sent a concerned glance at Naruto. If only she had had some medic-nin training.

"I'm going to have to give you some painkillers. Some of your wound has already closed and I have to cut it open again to get to the rest of it, so I can disinfect it. I think we should try going to the hospital again to see if anyone there can help."

Naruto shook his head. "It's not gonna work. They already said no. They won't help me. By tomorrow it'll be gone. Don' worry about me, Mikoto-san. If I wanna be Hokage, I should be able ta heal from wounds this small." He sent a shining grin her way. Maito Gai would have been rather proud. Maybe Naruto had met him before and had some pointers on the power of youth.

They soon found themselves walking up to the front desk of the hospital. The same woman, who had worn a nasty sneer, was still sitting there. Eyes seemed to follow every movement of the two in an odd fusion of disgust and respect. At the sight of Mikoto, she sat up just that bit straighter and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her clothes, followed by a pleasantly professional smile.

"What can I do for you, Uchiha-san?"

"Naruto, here" She picked the boy up from under his arms, so the woman could see him. At her touch, he jolted and locked up. "needs to get a deep wound in his foot disinfected and stitches to close it. It has already begun healing and could have possibly trapped in some dirt or something."

The woman scowled at the child. "I'm sure you understand, Uchiha-san, that we have very pressing matters to attend to. As you have mentioned, the wound has already healed somewhat, and I'm sure some rather _specific_ _circumstances_ of his would ensure that that wound does not get infected."

Mikoto gave her the best Uchiha glare she could muster, and silently rejoiced when the woman recoiled. Her glare was not quite as good as that of her husband, but it was rather cold, if one were to compare it to those of others.

Mikoto tried again, this time with a minute spike of killing intent, just enough to make a civilian feel intimidated enough to want to agree with her. "Naruto is a citizen of Konoha, and I am relatively sure the village hospital is required to at least check a patient's state when they have come in asking for help twice. Or would you like me to check with the Hokage?"

Once again, the woman froze up, conflicted between fear and her fiery loathing of that fox demon. Those god-forsaken whisker marks were a clear sign that he was its human manifestation, just waiting to unleash mayhem on Konoha once again. And those blond locks and bright blue eyes that were nothing more than an uncanny mocking of their Yondaime. Their precious Hokage, which that damned fox had killed in merciless cold blood.

A twisted sneer made its way on her face. "Waiting room. Someone will see you."

Naruto and Mikoto-san found themselves sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs for the better part of two hours before a scowling nurse made her way in and called them. Once in the room and seated, she poked and prodded at Naruto rather roughly. At her growled command, Naruto unraveled the bandage on his foot and let her see the wound. Her eyebrows shifted up for a moment before she jabbed it with some strange sort of metal thing. It continued steaming leisurely and knitting itself closed in front of her gaze. She left the room without a word, only to be replaced by and equally stone-faced doctor.

The doctor prodded at his foot, a lot like the nurse did, before she grabbed a strange-looking knife thing.

"I'm going to cut open your foot to get rid of the dirt that has been trapped inside."

That was the only warning he got before she plunged it into him. He bit back a sharp cry, and instead swallowed large mouthfuls of air in an attempt to be quiet.

"What do you think you are doing? Give the boy painkillers or numb his foot!" Mikoto was also not ready for the doctor's action from her words alone.

The doctor levelled a dull gaze at her, and paused in her stabbing. "You and I both know that any we'd give to him would be flushed out in moments, due to his _situation_. It's a waste of supplies."

Mikoto was horrified. To think the doctor would not even attempt numbing his foot.

"This will hurt." Once again, the doctor gave no sufficient warning as she poured water in the cut she made. This time, Naruto could not choke back his pain. He felt every single loose bit of skin and flesh move back and forth in the stream of the water, sure that some of them would get ripped off by the current. Tears sprung to his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. The stream let up for a moment, but what came next hurt even more.

Liquid fire. It burned through his flesh and sent flashing stings racing up his legs. His calves spasmed as they cramped again and again, more and more. His breath left him in a single, loud sob. No more followed, since Naruto had long learned to be silent when crying. Once again, he found himself shedding tears over a pain in his foot. Curse the demon that is sewing.

And then, it was over. The memory of that scorching pain only validated by a dull ache. As the doctor wrapped his foot, he let out a breath he was not aware he had held. At least he did not lose consciousness this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the second "official" chapter, or the third, including the prologue. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it, especially considering that Sasuke has made his first appearance, as well as Itachi's first proper one, too. Well, thank you for reading.
> 
> I hope to see you in the next chapter, adorable readers of mine!


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